Dossier
by geekmama
Summary: Big Brother is watching. Written for Day 1 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017, this is a follow-up to my First Meeting double drabble, Brilliant.


_**~ Dossier ~**_

 _For the 'Why?' prompt, and the First Meeting prompt for May 14th of Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017_

* * *

"Here's the report you asked for, sir," Anthea said, and set the thin folder down on the desk.

Mycroft picked it up and opened it, and immediately raised a brow at several photographs that graced the inside cover. "She's not much, is she?" he muttered. "Molly Elizabeth Hooper. Five feet, four inches; one hundred and fifteen pounds; brownish hair - one might say auburn, perhaps; brown eyes. Moderately pretty."

"She was first in her class at both Cambridge and Edinburgh," Anthea pointed out.

Mycroft glanced up. "You've read it?"

Anthea flushed slightly, but said, "Well, yes, I did. Keeping an eye on your brother's interests is part of my job, after all."

"So it is," Mycroft agreed. He continued reading. "One of the youngest doctors Barts has ever hired… and certainly the youngest pathologist ever to grace their mortuary. Skilled, intelligent, intuitive. Sunny disposition, with a touch of dark humor - not surprising. Loyal to a fault. Not above bending rules in a good cause. Father lost to cancer when she was was still at school. Somewhat distant relationship with her mother and sister at present. No serious suitor in the last five years. Owns one cat. And has, apparently, no fashion sense to speak of."

Anthea chuckled. " _That_ won't appeal to your brother."

"One wouldn't think so," Mycroft agreed, "though of course a lab coat may ameliorate a great many such sins. And, what with her _infatuation_ , he believes she may be _of use_. His words."

Anthea sniffed. "I daresay. If it wasn't so vital that he be kept occupied I'd be inclined to warn the poor little thing. Not that it would probably do much good. He's a wretch, but quite irresistible when he puts his mind to it."

It was Mycroft's turn to sniff.

Anthea felt compelled to add, "If you were a woman, sir…. Well. You'd understand."

Mycroft said dryly. "I wonder how _irresistible_ she'd have found him a year ago. Or even six months."

Anthea sighed. "I'm afraid that even at his worst he has a charm about him. A sweetness that comes out at odd times - in spite of everything."

"Please!" Mycroft said with disgust.

But Anthea insisted, "He's doing well. And he won't harm her. In fact, I'm not sure why you're taking this so seriously. Women were never among Sherlock's vices."

Mycroft looked up at her. Then he took up his mobile from where it lay on his desk and opened an app. "I came home last evening to this." He hit play and a recording - the sound of a violin - began to weave about the room.

Anthea's eyes widened, and then, as the music went on - light, almost sprightly, occasionally touched with strange, interesting asides in a minor key - she frowned. "He's _composing?_ "

Mycroft said, "He hasn't touched the instrument in months, it's just been gathering dust in a corner since he was released from that facility - which was one of the many reasons I was happy to discover he's been formulating a plan to move out of my house. I thought perhaps that was the problem. But apparently not. Here we are, hours after meeting Miss Hooper, and he's not only playing, he's creating melodic odes to her fine eyes."

"He _said_ that?"

"No, of course he didn't say it!" Mycroft said, impatiently. "But I believe it's fairly obvious that she's inspired this sudden burst of creativity."

Anthea was silent for a moment, then said, "Perhaps we _should_ warn her against him."

But Mycroft shook his head. "No. We'll watch and wait. He's quite vocally adamant that he has no use for the fairer sex at present - The Work is all, and Lestrade has promised to keep him supplied with cold cases when there's nothing else at hand. What with that, and access to the lab at Barts, and hunting for a suitable flat, he should be kept busy enough to keep out of trouble."

"Very well," Anthea agreed. "But it's _Dr._ Hooper."

"That's what I said," Mycroft frowned.

"No. You said _Miss_ Hooper."

"Oh." Mycroft looked down at the picture again and shook his head. "They certainly get younger every year. But I suppose you're correct. It won't due to underestimate this _Dr._ Hooper and her potential influence on my brother."

"No, it won't," Anthea agreed, and found that she was quite amused at the thought of watching this particular Holmesian play unfold over the course of time.

~.~


End file.
